


Out of the Storm

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor and his wife Mírilindë return to the house of Fëanor from Alqualondë in a storm. They are just in time for dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> For more of Macalaurë and Mírilindë, see my story "Not Even In Question".

A rush of warmth and light greeted Mírilindë as she and Macalaurë crossed the threshold, arm in arm, the cold wind gusting in behind them.

By the fire, Tyelkormo cracked open an eyelid. “Ai! Káno, close the kitchen door, it’s cold as Melkor’s icy balls out there! Wait…  _Káno_? Mírilindë?”

“Good to see you too, brother” said Macalaurë, unwinding his scarf.

“Tyelko!” chided Nerdanel, although she sighed resignedly as she regarded her third son, who was curled up against a sleeping Huan’s broad flank, half-drowsing and warming his feet by the hearth. She rushed to help Mírilindë with her cloak, and enfolding them both in a hug. “None of us expected you back today. How was Alqualondë?”

“Cloudy and chilly” said Mírilindë. “Olwë apologised a lot for the weather. Still, the beach wasn’t our main concern, and Macalaurë’s _Seashore Symphony_  went down a storm.” She smiled fondly, as Macalaurë kissed her on the cheek. “So to speak.”

“That’s wonderful!” said Nerdanel.

“It was certainly better than the premier in Tirion” allowed Macalaurë, cocking his head thoughtfully. “Although the lute soloist - ”

Mírilindë rolled her eyes. “Oh no. Don’t even get him started on the lute soloist.”

“I’m surprised” said Carnistir, kicking his legs under the table and laughing. “I expected Macalaurë to have learned to play  _every single part_ himself at the same time by now, if only to save himself from the influence of  _lesser talents_  on his music.” He shook his head at his brother, trying not to laugh. “For shame, Káno. You’ve only yourself to blame.”

Macalaurë crossed the room swiftly and swatted his brother on the back of his head with his sodden scarf. Carnistir leapt to his feet with a loud yelp, but before anyone could intervene the two brothers were hugging each other roughly and laughing. Mírilindë smiled, as Nerdanel fussed over hanging up the damp cloaks in front of the fire, and propelled Mírilindë into a chair beside Tyelkormo and Huan. The great hound licked her hand, drowsily.

“Are you hungry?” said Nerdanel, nodding to the door of the kitchen from where a warm savoury smell was emanating. “Fëanáro and Curvo are cooking today, they should be finished soon.” She frowned, peering out of the window at the colour of the sky. “I sent the twins out to the woodshed a while ago and they’re not back yet. I wonder where they could have gotten to.”

“They probably got distracted” said Tyelkormo, stretching luxuriantly. “I bet they’ve forgotten you even sent them out for wood and are off racing snails by the stream or something.”

“I’m sure they’re fine” said Macalaurë, taking Nerdanel’s hand reassuringly.

“Besides” said Carnistir archly. “Tyelkormo’s just bitter because all he managed to bring back from the hunt today was a bushel of peaches. Why, Tyelko, you should hang a peach stone on the wall of your room as a trophy of your great hunting prowess.”

“Shut up! The rain started up and drove the prey away!” Tyelkormo lunged at him, and Carnistir darted out of his reach, laughing gleefully.

“We all like peaches” said Nerdanel firmly. “Why, Fëanáro even has a peach tart in the oven for dessert today. I had to make the pastry though…” she laughed, but kindly. “Fëanáro may be the greatest of the Ñoldor in many things, but he is no pastry chef.”

“That sounds wonderful, Nerdanel” said Mírilindë, hastily backing her up as Macalaurë placed himself between his brothers.

Tyelkormo was still glaring at Carnistir. “When I make peach and apricot wine, see if I give you any” he muttered under his breath.

Carnistir was about to reply when the door burst open with another blast of cold wind, revealing three red-haired figures. “Hello, Amil” said the tallest, “I found these two out in the garden in the rain –  _Káno_?”

“Nelyo!” said Macalaurë, grinning delightedly and rushing to pull his brother into another clumsy hug, before recoiling. “Ugh, you’re soaked. Looks like we missed the worst of the weather, Lindë.”

“Don’t we get a hug too?” said an indignant Ambarussa, Ambarto nodding alongside him, dropping an armful of slightly damp firewood by the hearth.

“Yes, all right, all right, one at a time, hang on…” Macalaurë feigned annoyance, belying his smile, before hugging his youngest brothers in their turn. “Happy now?”

“Mírilindë!” said Maitimo, throwing back his hood and squeezing water from the end of his waist length copper braid, dark and sodden where it had emerged from the hood. His expression changed from distaste to a warm smile as she greeted him. “Good to see you, Lindë! I didn’t realise you and Káno would be back today.”

“Neither did any of the rest of us!” fretted Nerdanel. “I do hope there will be enough food” she stood on tiptoe to kiss her eldest son on the cheek, before helping him with his wet cloak. “But darling, what brings  _you_ home? I thought you were staying with Findekáno tonight?”

A cloud crossed Maitimo’s face. “We…” he looked pained. “The situation with Ñolofinwë, and then Turukáno…” he faltered.

“Oh dear, did you and Finno argue?”

Maitimo sighed, looking a little dejected. “Yes. A bit. Nothing too serious, but…” he shrugged. “I thought I should probably go home tonight, anyway.”

“Don’t worry, Nelyo” said Tyelkormo, sitting up. “You’ll patch it up soon enough. The two of you always do, and then afterwards you can have hot, filthy - ”

“ _Tyelko_.”

“Alright! Alright!” He brightened suddenly. “Besides, Nelyo, you get to sample the wonderful peaches I brought back, the bounty of a glorious hunt by yours truly, and Findekáno doesn’t… so who’s laughing now?”

Maitimo smiled tiredly. “You make a compelling argument, Tyelko.”

“See?  _Someone_  appreciates my efforts!” Tyelkormo gave Carnistir a smug smile.

Just at that moment the kitchen door opened and Curufinwë came in, followed by Fëanáro, holding a large covered tray which he placed on the table.

“Nelyo!” said Curufinwë. “Oh, and hello, Macalaurë, Mírilindë.” He gave a little bow to her, and Mírilindë smiled, inclining her head in turn.

“Ah, excellent” said Fëanáro, looking around. “Everyone is here. Macalaurë, how did your performance go?”

“It went wonderfully” said Mírilindë decisively, clasping Macalaurë’s hand, before he could answer.

Macalaurë gave a sigh. “Yes” he said. “I suppose it did.”

“Good” said Fëanáro. “I rather thought it would.” 

——— 

“Was it just me” said Mírilindë later, as they climbed the stairs, pleasantly full, “or did everything have just a hint of peaches in it…?”

“Probably not just you” said Macalaurë. “Atar takes so much pride in all our achievements that if Tyelko brought back a bucketful of cockroaches he’d probably bake them in a pie and serve them for dinner.”

Mírilindë laughed, as they paused outside the door of their bedroom. “Let us hope that that does not happen any time soon.”

When their laughter had subsided they were left simply standing there, hands clasped between them. “Thank you” said Macalaurë at last.

“For what?”

“For enduring my family” said Macalaurë. “They can be a lot to handle, all at once.” He smiled wearily. “Even for me.”

“Don’t worry” Mírilindë stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I actually rather like your parents and brothers.” She smiled wryly. “Being married to you isn’t half so much a trial as you make it sound, you know.”

Macalaurë appeared a little mollified, pulling her closer. “Glad to hear it.”

Mírilindë pushed open the door of the room. “Now, shall we go to bed?”

He smiled, kissing her hand in mock formality. “Yes. Yes I think we should.”


End file.
